Nameless Pilot
by Kyryst
Summary: Where do those pilots of the valkyries that get shot down in what seems like every battle on the way home from Pluto to Earth come from? Here is their story.


Nameless Pilot

Disclaimer: I do not own Robotech, Macross, or any of their associated characters, that pleasure belongs to Harmony Gold.

"" Indicated vocal speech.

'' Indicate unspoken thoughts.

* * *

He stood in front of the Academy. Here in the outskirts of Macross City, within the SDF-1 Macross, passing the orbit of Neptune, he stood with the first graduating class trained on the Valkyrie. Before him Captain Gloval stood at the podium.

"Here, today, I do not stand here in pride. I am sorrowed. Before me in proud formation, I see young men who have responded to the call of duty. People who were recently graduating high school, helping with the rebuilding, living lives separated from the Motherland that is Earth. You stand here today, the first class of a new age. You are trained not in the tactics of pure wind and sky, facing not the enemies of old, those fellow citizens of Terra Firma. You are trained to face these outsiders, these aliens, those whom we only now know as Zentraedi. Your new battlefield is the cold, merciless void known as Space."

From his position in the third row, second from the outside, he see the class leader in scores and standing, Rick Hunter, shift uncomfortably. He could only hope that it wasn't just himself that found this speech to be slightly ominous. From the grim faces up on stage and around him, it was apparent he was not the only one.

"I will not lie to you. It will be brutal. It will be ugly. It is likely that none of you will reach Earth. We can build machinery. We can even build Valkyries. It is you that we have a finite resource of. Our path to the blue jewel of home will be paved by your efforts. You will be protecting fifty thousand and more persons and lives every time you launch. Every time that you patrol, you are the guardians of this ship holding off the ruthless, relentless, emptiness inhabited by invaders that seek to remove us. Take pride in the fact that even if you fall, you will be remembered by those of us who continue. ATTENHUT! This is the First Graduating Class of the Macross City Academy of the U.N. SPACY! The First Ones to graduate off of the ground of Mother Earth! Let it be the first of more to come! SALUTE!"

_(The U.N. SPACY Anthem plays as the flag of a United Earth is saluted.)_

* * *

He was nervous. He had done catapult launches before. He had even flown the VF-1A Valkyrie on patrols before. This was different. This time he was launching as a member of Green Squadron in support of the infamous Skull Squadron. He would be launching directly into a combat situation. Before him the First Flight of Green Squadron was launched. He followed the arm signals of Prometheus Electromagnetic Catapult Crew Three and adjusted his bird's setting for outside catapult launch control settings. His eyes followed both the Catapult Crew Guide's arm and the visual reference guide light. Three. Two. The crewman, who was bulked up in an EVA grade orange crew suit, seemed to be in slow motion as his came down. Adrenaline surged as he hyperventilated and muscles tensed in the positions and ways the Academy teachers had beaten into all of the cadets. One.

"Whooo-haaa!" He breathed out. The G-forces shed as he came to combat speeds and lost acceleration. His thumb flicked the radio transmitter on, and he spoke into it. "Green Seven has launched. Catapult clear. Out."

He switched over to the squadron frequency from the Prometheus's launch frequency. "Green Seven has launched. Weapons hot, combat ready. Requesting combat insertion vector."

After him, he could hear Green Eight repeat him. The answer came from Green Flight Two Leader. "We are instructed to support Crimson Flight Three at the starboard ventral sector relative to the Macross. Make it snappy. They are already one man down, with two planes condition yellow."

The Flight did a wingover and accelerated into the fray. He targeted a battlepod with his cannon, and missed as it jinked. Another battlepod rushed him in what seemed to be standard Zentreadi suicidal tactics. He side slipped rolling to right while releasing a missile. It arched down for a split second until its target acquisition radar pulled it back upwards and to the left. It slammed in between the legs and exploded. The size of the explosion indicated something crucial was hit.

He dove, weaved, and jinked. At times he spammed missiles, targeting multiple enemies. Only one or two were caught unwary. Those two separate battlepods shredded. He picked off one more battlepod on the tail of Green Eight with his cannon, thankfully before it locked on. He pulled up and over. His wingtips traced a corkscrewing wingover to the left and rear of his original path. His HUD locked on two more battlepods and he released a half dozen missiles. The first two slammed dead center in to the first battlepod, crushing the torso. It headed into a ballistic course out of the fray. The third missile went wild and straight between the two pods. The second battlepod lost an arm, then a leg, before the last missile speared through the visor, blimping it out before the whole pod became shrapnel.

'Yes, Ace', he thought eyes dropping down to his radar and finding the ID tag that was his wingmen. He hit the throttle and banked slightly left. 'Green Flight Two isn't doing shabby at al-'

A Regult light artillery pod blundered into his path. The two craft came together at over 50 meters a second. The Explosion illuminated that part of the battlefield. It also seemed to serve as a retreat signal as the Zentraedi forces slowly began to withdraw.

* * *

In the Prometheus Air Group Commander's office the Personnel Chief handed an electronic pad marked Casualty Report to the Commander. He opened it up and flipped through the digital folders, reading as he went. As he came to one marked Green Seven he stopped. Out loud he said, "So, he made Ace his first sortie, but never made it back, huh? I can use this."

Two days later, a Valkyrie model in a glass case with a bronze placard appeared in the pilot's ready room of the Prometheus. The Valkyrie had a green stripe on the fuselage and on the wider spaces of the wings and ailerons had a question mark with crossed bones instead of a period. The placard read the following:

"On his first combat sortie, Green Seven shot down seven Zentraedi Battlepods. This made him an Ace. However, he did not make it back aboard the ship. We can replace planes. We cannot do the same with pilots. You are a finite resource. Your life means more than the title of Ace does. Make it home. Sincerely, Prometheus CAG, U.."

At the bottom of the placard was a strangely illegible signature next to a label of Green Seven, first combat action, 7 kills: Ace, Status: Dead, Age: 17.

* * *

The following months had a rumor spread that the position of Green Seven was cursed. By the time Macross returned to Earth, eight pilots had taken the position of Green Seven. Seven had died Aces and were added to the placard. The eighth pilot made it a habit to keep an updated will and pray before the model before every launch. None of his squadron-mates laugh, as most will pray with him.

* * *

In the years to come the placard, case, and model will be placed in the starship Prometheus. The Prometheus will traditionally be host to Green Squadron. Over the years, more placards will be added containing only the names and information of pilots which have held the position of Green Seven. A scoreboard placard will also be added containing a listing of the medals won by pilots in the same position.

Legends and curses always have to begin somewhere.

* * *

Author's Note: I know it's a bit of a downer, but I watch Robotech and read the fanfictions, and then wonder where do all the exploding Valkyries come from? And my muse takes a sledgehammer to my imagination in the early hours of the morning, and I get this. I know it's not canon or anything, but I had to write it.


End file.
